And there’s no smirk now.
No performance.
Just certainty.
“There you have it, folks. Stay tuned for Try for Me by DJ Mars and guest vocals Bella Bosco!”
The screen cuts back to the anchor desk.
The shop is chaos.
Bella is jumping up and down.
“HE SAID MY NAME! ON TV!” she shrieks. “LARRY!”
“And more importantly,” Maribel adds, “He said he’s not single, Hilary.”
I don’t move.
I can’t.
Because that bubble I’ve been waiting to burst?
It didn’t pop.
It expanded.
Bigger.
Brighter.
Twice as dangerous.
And I don’t know whether to laugh or cry or run.
Because whether I’m ready to admit it or not—David’s not just in my phone.
He’s not just in my life.
He’s in my heart.
For better or worse.
Chapter Twenty-Seven
David
The house doesn’t even feel like mine anymore.
Half the art is gone.
The awards are boxed.
The studio equipment is crated and labeled.
FRAGILE.
HAMMONTON, NJ.